Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was hot. And not the usual, “I'm sweating, crack open a window” hot that often accompanied ninety degree weather. No, this heat was filled with humidity, and it was effectively ruining Jonathan Combs’ night. He sat on his bed in next to nothing, sweat literally dripping off his teen body, fiddling with the air conditioner. It was located on the window adjacent to his bed, and had only been installed that morning. He had spent the last week convincing his mother to let him put the air conditioner in the window for the summer, and between his complaining and the heat she had finally relented. Unfortunately, she hadn't let him be the one to put it in. Instead she relied on their neighbor, a muscular man in his late thirties whose name Jonathan could never remember.

The neighbor was how Jonathan got stuck in his current predicament, which was that the damn thing was busted. The machine’s power button had somehow fallen off in the middle of the day, and he hadn't noticed this morning in his rush to get ready for school. He was certain the neighbor had knocked it loose during the air conditioner’s installation, but he had no proof.

Jon hadn't even noticed it was broken until he had gotten out of band practice that night, far too busy dealing with the stresses of heat, school, homework, heat, the band, and his own personal Hell demon to even try the machine. But the button sat on his messy bed, nestled on top of his grey sheets, waiting for him to notice it. And despite all of Jon’s efforts and attempts; be it with crazy glue or trying to force the button back onto it’s proper peg, the thing refused to be pressed back onto the machine.

Jonathan gave up, hucking the button clean across the room, where it bounced on the carpet before being lost in the mire of his bedroom. He couldn't remember the last time he cleaned it, but for the moment he hardly cared. Let the room be a mess. It was far too hot and he was far too tired to deal with the broken button, or his messy room, or anything else. Instead he closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.

It was then that his demon decided to make an appearance, and Jonathan was made aware of this fact when the ghost decided to announce his presence.

“Hey Jonathan!.” Sock Sowachowski said in greeting. Jon could only reply with a small groan of annoyance. It was too hot to deal with Sock right now.

“You're in a good mood.” the demon said, his voice all chipper and exciting, glad to see that his counterpart was so miserable.

Even if Sock was off the clock, and he had no control or bearing over the warm weather, which he couldn't even register, at least Jon was miserable. He'd might be able to convince his target to kill himself tonight, if he was lucky and Jon hit a really low point….

 Right now, though, Jon was far from low. Annoyed, sure, but hardly low.

 “What do you want?” The overheated teen asked.
“Nothing, just admiring the view.”
“What view?”

From Jonathan’s perspective, the room was an absolute mess, something hardly exciting to look at. Upon walking in, you were greeted by his bed against the left wall. The window, in which sat the now defunct air conditioner, was practically cradling the bed. Against the northern wall was his dresser, upon which sat a pile of clothes of questionable cleanliness. On the wall opposite the bed faced the television, the screen powered off. Connected to that, laying on the floor was a PlayStation 4, with errant controllers and discs tossed aside. Lastly, on the southern wall, opposite the dresser, was an entertainment system, upon which sat a stereo. A sizable collection of CDs and cassettes lived within the entertainment system, the door to which was carefully closed shut. Unlike the rest of the room, his music collection had been handled with care and meticulously organized, the entire antithesis to how Jon cared about anything else.

 Jon had no idea what Sock meant by “enjoying the view”, and hardly suspected that the demon was ogling him, which Sock shamelessly was.

 "Forget it.” Sock muttered, before Jon could inquire further, and the matter was quickly dropped.

Sock took the time to float closer to Jonathan, flying over the teen’s head and sticking there, looking down at his target. Not that Jon noticed. His eyes were still shut, and he laid on his back, trying desperately to will himself colder. It was a fruitless effort, and he absentmindedly wiped some sweat from his brow.

“You have an air conditioner, you know.” Sock noted the giant mechanical monstrosity positioned in the window, completely unaware that it had been the bane of Jonathan’s existence for the past hour.

 “Do I? I hadn't noticed.” Jon sarcastically quipped

 The sarcasm went over Sock’s head entirely, however. “Yeah. Why aren't you using it?”

"It's broken.”
“How'd you break it?”
“I didn't. The neighbor broke it putting it int.” Jon said through grit teeth, unable to hide his frustration.
“And you're hot?”
“Dude, I'm sweating. You're not?”
“Nope.”

Jonathan hated Sock right then. Hated him because it was at least eighty to ninety degrees in his room, and Sock was still in the same clothing he'd died in. How was that fleece hat not immensely warm? Or that little scarf? And that skirt and jean combo? How wasn't Sock overheating in all that?

“Because he's dead” Jonathan reminded himself. And that answered his question.

“Doesn't it get hot in Hell?” Jonathan asked. When Sock shook his head no in reply, Jonathan added: “What's it like, anyway? What, is there no hellfire or brimstone?”

“Kill yourself and find out.” Sock challenged, with a grin that Jon could see even in the faded darkness of his room. There was something ominous and foreboding about it.

For a brief second, Jon put stock in his friend’s words, if only to beat this detestable heat. But he was quick to change his mind, unable to fathom the reality of actually killing himself over something as minute as the weather.

“What're you doing here, anyway?” Jon finally asked. Sock shrugged in reply. He didn't really have an official reason for stopping by. Normally it would be due to work, but his shift ended hours ago. He just felt like it, he supposed.

“Just wanted to see what you were up to. Hell gets pretty boring sometimes, so I figured I'd bother you.” Sock said with a grin.

“Well I'm heading to bed. You can bother me in the morning.” Jon said, sounding rather dismissive. He really wasn't in the mood to be tormented tonight.

“Aww. Come on. Let's jam out to some music.”
“No one says ‘jam’ anymore.” The blonde corrected.
“Well still, let's hang out!”
“Sock, it's too hot and I have school in the morning. You're off the clock, so go away!”

Sock pouted slightly, irritated about Jon’s irritability. But he decided he wasn't going to let his counterpart boss him around.

“Nope. You're stuck with me. Hey, we should have a sleepover!” Sock said.

Before Jon could offer more complaints, Sock had disappeared with an audible pop. Jonathan let out a sigh of exasperation, and waited for his demon to return.

Five minutes passed, and then another ten, and Jon shut his eyes, thinking perhaps Sock had enough of screwing with him.

‘He probably got distracted with something.’

Whatever the reason for Sock’s delay, Jon wasn't going to let it phase him. Instead he focused on trying to sleep, and he emptied his brain, removing thoughts of Sock. He didn't let himself replay the memories of the stupid things Sock had said that day, or perhaps something funny Sock had said earlier in the week or how goofy Sock looked hatless and the adorable smirks the demon tended to throw whenever he thought Jonathan wasn't looking.

He tried to forget the agonizing heat as he did his damndest to ignore the beads of sweat trickling down his chest and legs. His chest heaved softly as he began to slowly drift off…

‘POP’

Jon’s eyes snapped awake at the sound, and he looked up to see Sock floating above him, an innocent smirk on his face. The demon was shirtless, the gaping wound from his spookyhole” visible even in the darkness of Jon’s room. Sock was in nothing more than a pair of boxers, adorned with hot pink flaming skulls.

A stuffed animal was clutched in Sock’s arms, a cat that had clearly been taken apart and stitched back together more than once. It's eyes were gone, and it looked rather lumpy. Jon wondered where some of its missing stuffing went. Then he wondered why Sock had the damn thing in the first place.

He snorted at the creature as Sock threw him unceremoniously on the bed. The creature landed on the end of the bed, near his feet, and Jon peered ar it, surprised Sock still had a stuffed animal.

“What are you, five?” He asked, lightly kicking the stuffed cat with a foot,

Sock dove forward and grabbed his mangled friend, cradling him gently, protecting him from any more attacks from the other boy.

“Hey! Be nice to Johnny!” Sock cried.

 “Johnny?” Jonathan asked, in disbelief. ‘He named that thing after me?’

 "Yeah, Johnny. With an H. Johnathan Cats.”

‘That's a stupid name’.

“What happened to him?” Jon asked, finding it difficult not to imagine the demon dissecting the poor children’s plaything.

“Oh. He killed himself.” Sock replied, cheerfully. “Isn't it just inspiring? Maybe you ought to follow his lead, Jonathan.” Jonathan could feel himself cringe in sympathy as he gave the cat another once over, and he shuddered, immediately deciding a change in subject was in order.

He knew Sock was screwing with him, and he found it somewhat unsettling. The cat was clearly meant to be a mirror to himself. But he had questions. Why would Sock name it after him? The cat looked worn and old; he had the thing for a while, which meant that this whole Johnathan Cats thing was more than a simple joke. So why would Sock name something so personal after him?

“So how about it, huh? You gonna off yourself?” Sock asked again, snapping Jonathan back to reality. He glowered at the demon, in semi-annoyance.

“I'm good, thanks.” He said, going to shut his eyes. “Can I go to sleep now?” Sock nodded, and Jon closed his eyes, not even waiting for Sock to assume a spot on the floor, where Jonathan figured Sock would be sleeping.

But he was wrong. He suddenly felt movement, and a few seconds later there was Sock, snuggling against him on the bed. He felt a chill go down his spine as he felt the ghostly touch of Sock’s right arm wrapping around his waist, his head lying lightly on Jonathan’s chest. His left arm was snaked around Johnny Cats, and if it weren't stuffed, he'd be crushing the poor creature to death. Fortunately, that wasn't the case.

It was as if Jonathan’s body had been dunked in a tub of refreshing ice, and whereas normally it would have been incredibly unpleasant, now, in this ninety degree weather, it was a welcome sensation. He gasped, though he wasn't sure if it was in surprise or relief.

“The hell are you doing, Sock? Why aren't you on the floor?” He asked. As much as he was liking the cooling sensation of Sock’s touch, he had to at least pretend he didn't like it. His face betrayed him, and his cheeks were turning a light shade of pink.

“Laying down. This is a sleepover, right? Besides, Johnny doesn't like the floor.” Sock said, making his cat nod in agreement. It was a stupid pretense on Sock’s part, but Jon took the bait anyway.

“Fine. Then I guess you could stay. If only for the stupid cat.” Jon grumbled, not really wanting Sock to leave his side anyway. He could feel his cheeks redden some more as he saw Sock’s smile widen, and he prayed the demon didn't see the effect that he had on him.

“Yay! You hear that, we can stay!” Sock cheered to his cat, tightening his one arm against Jon’s chest in a half hug.

Jon’s cheeks were warm, but the rest of him was nice and cool. The chilling sensation counteracted the heat wave, and Jon could tell sleep would come easy to him now. But he wasn't sure if it was from the heat dissipating or if it was because he had Sock at his side. He'd never admit it, but he liked being close to Sock like this.

“You're warm.” Sock said, his voice yawning at the last syllable. Apparently Sock could feel temperature after all, or at least he could feel Jon’s body heat. He could also hear Jonathan’s faint heartbeat, a light and rhythmic rapping that was soothing to the demon. He cuddled closer to Jonathan, burying his face in the teen’s chest.

Jon couldn't help but smile, his face nearly on fire now, and he closed his eyes and tried to relax. A few moments later, Sock’s grip lessened somewhat, and he could hear a faint snoring sound coming from the demon. Johnny slipped out of Sock’s grip and fell off the bed, but Jon didn't chase after it, not wanting to move.

He glanced downward, at the sea of auburn tufts of Sock’s hair, which was nothing but a mess. Jon smirked and stifled a laugh, remembering the first time he saw it. The demon was too adorable sometimes.

Was that the right word? Adorable? Jonathan wasn't sure. Sock could be weird and downright unsettling sometimes, such as the abandoned cat that had stolen his namesake. And then there was that whole penchant for murder thing. But other times, like now, lightly snoring, cuddled against Jon, he was endearing. And he was keeping Jonathan nice and cool, something the blonde was thankful for. Now he could rest.

“Night, Sock.” He muttered, and closed his eyes, finally drifting off to sleep.